DISCLAIMER: the lack of drunken pom-pom dancing indicates I'm not Joss, right???
RATING: Oh, we'll say R-ish for this one.
PAIRING: W/S... working towards W/S/A...
DISTRIBUTION: the usual places, and my site.
FEEDBACK: would be welcomed, and given a good home.
DEDICATIONS: to Jeannette and Nat, for all their work on the site... Also to: Shar, Paula, and Fanny, for the feedback.
NOTES: Okay, Spike is no longer neutered, Willow's a vampire, Buffy's a self-absorbed little bitch, and Angel's swiftly approaching Sunnyhell with visions of repaying his childe for that little S1 bout of torture dancing in his head... as usual, * *= emphasis, and ' ' indicates a sarcastic sort of tone...
MORE NOTES: I almost feel like I'm being disrespectful by going on with the fic-writing in the wake of Tuesday's tragedy, but I have to do something, you know??? So, if anyone is offended by the fact that I seem to be going on as though nothing has happened, I'm sorry. The awareness of those attacks is constantly in my head, and I am sorrier than I can possibly express for the families and friends of those missing or dead.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He felt the wicked grin growing even wider as he drove past the Welcome to Sunnydale, Enjoy Your Stay sign. With any luck, his 'stay' would be more than enjoyable. It had been years-- literally-- since he'd last felt the urge to play with Spike, and he wasn't sure of exactly why that desire was coursing through his body again, especially so suddenly, but ultimately, he figured it didn't much matter. Whatever it was that had made the feelings flood his usually guilt-ridden mind, he welcomed it. It certainly broke up the monotony.
A slight frown crossed his face as he drove past the magic shop, some inner sense telling him that Buffy was there, but he didn't stop. He had no interest in seeing the girl who'd once owned him, body and soul. It wasn't at all surprising to him that he could feel his demon agreeing with the sentiment. Still, he needed to know exactly where his childe was holing up these days, so he pulled into the small parking lot of the Sunnydale 7-11, and climbed from the car, fumbling in his pocket for change.
It took only a matter of moments to cross to the pay phone, insert the coins, and dial Giles' number. His fingers drummed impatiently against the glass, even as he waited for the man to answer. "H-Hello?" he said, when a female voice picked up the line, "I'm trying to reach Rupert Giles." He didn't know who the strange girl was, but at least she hadn't been his ex. "Rupert," he said, relieved, when the Watcher took the phone, "I need to find..." His eyes grew wide when the Englishman cut him off.
Apparently, Willow was missing. Or that was what Giles seemed to think, anyway. But the man was speaking so softly, Angel was sure he was trying not to be overheard. "Buffy couldn't find her?" he asked, truly concerned for the young redhead his demon had lusted after so desperately. He barely contained a growl when the Watcher explained that Buffy hadn't even looked.
"But Willow wouldn't just *disappear*," he said hotly, wondering what he'd ever seen in the blonde Slayer to begin with. "I don't care *how* angry Buffy made her, she wouldn't just... No. No, you're right. Has anyone checked at her parents' house? I mean, isn't it possible that she might have gone there?" He did growl then, the realization that the girl's 'friends' didn't give a shit about her finally setting in. But at least Giles had tried to call her. The fact that she hadn't answered didn't bode well, though. "Look, Rupert," he said loudly, interrupting the man's quiet voice, "I'm not far from there. I'll go check, myself, okay?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes as the barely muffled shout of surprise coming from the other end of the line. "No, I actually came looking for *Spike*, and I'd really prefer it if you didn't tell Buffy I'm here... No, it's got nothing to do with Cordelia. No visions at all." He shrugged to himself at the Watcher's swiftly whispered question. "It's a vampire thing, Giles," he finally said, "But it can wait until after I find Willow."
When he hung up the phone a few minutes later, his face was set in stony planes. He *would* find the redhead. She was, after all, the only one of the lot who'd ever come close to understanding him. Besides, Angelus still had a big old yen for the little witch, so his demon-y half would help. He moved swiftly to his car and slid in behind the wheel. He had a witch to find, then a childe to play with. In that order.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She should have been relaxed, and she knew it. Her Sire had fucked her repeatedly for hours, and she should have been completely exhausted! But she wasn't. No, her entire body was twitching and tingling, the sensations growing stronger by the minute. Her skin itched madly, and she didn't know why, but she couldn't help wondering if maybe something had gone wrong with her turning. It was the only explanation she could find, and it scared her. Her hand moved almost desperately on her Sire's pale chest, and she shivered slightly.
Spike could have sworn he was going insane. His Sire was getting closer and closer, and his childe was starting to stink of fear, and the combination of those two sensations was driving him mad. He'd tried to eradicate the feelings with extended bouts of fucking, but it hadn't worked yet, and as he felt Angel's looming aura slowly creeping up on him, he knew it wouldn't. There was no substitute for his Sire, after all; not even his childe, as vicious as she was. The fact that she seemed to be equally twitchy under all that fear wasn't helping either. "What's wrong pet?" he forced himself to ask, his un-needed breaths coming faster as he sensed exactly what Angel was thinking about.
"I don't *know*!" she cried, shaking harshly as she pressed herself against his tense body, "I don't know, Spike, but... it feels like..." Her eyes closed in despair at finding the words. "Something... *dark*, but light... I don't *know*! It wants you! Wants to take you away from me!" She sobbed desperately against him, not comforted even slightly when his arm tightened around her waist.
His eyes were wide, but that was only to be expected, he figured, because it sounded like she was sensing his Sire! Dark but light. Wanting him. Yes, that was almost exactly what he was feeling from the dark-haired vampire. But she shouldn't have been feeling it, too; not unless they were mated, and they *weren't*! No, she should have been able to feel *his* reaction to Angel's emotions, but not the emotions of the Pouf himself! It was yet another thing to add to his list of things that weren't normal about his childe. Still, her distress was annoying. "Does it feel like... anything you recognize, luv?" he demanded, sitting up beside her.
She flew up next to him, unwilling to let him get too far away, and forced herself to think about everything she'd ever felt in her short life as a human. "No..." she began, leaning against his smooth back, "Not... really." She could feel his curiosity, and shrugged. "It almost reminds me of when I restored Angel's soul, but not exactly. That was different..."
f he hadn't been a vampire, he would have missed her softly spoken words, and he almost wished he had. "*You* gave the Pouf his soul back?" he asked, completely stunned as he turned swiftly to face her. "Not the Watcher or the Moron. *You*." He groaned at her small nod before nodding, himself. "Right, then." Bloody fucking bastard! Damned prick always had to get there first! It wasn't enough that his childe had slept with that wet puppy of a werewolf. Wasn't enough that she'd been all involved with that other witch. He'd known all that, and had accepted it, but she'd been linked to his bloody souled ponce of a Sire all along, and he hadn't had even a clue! His eyes flashed gold at her, and he pushed her away as he stood up. "Get dressed," he ordered.
She couldn't figure out what she'd done to piss him off so much. One minute, he'd been acting like Spike-her-friend-and-Sire, and the next? She'd never seen him that way before. The demon-her responded swiftly to the demand in his voice, though, and she was off the bed, pulling on her clothes, before she even knew it. Once she was dressed, however, she stood there, staring at the floor as she shifted back and forth in confusion. "What did I..." she began, only to be cut off by his hands pulling her against him, and his tongue stabbing deep into her mouth.
He took her lips hard, his sharp teeth drawing small drops of blood from her mouth, and after a moment, he pushed her away again. His eyes were hard as he glared at her. "You are *my* childe," he said angrily, "*Mine*! Not his; *never* *his*!"
She nodded quickly, wondering why he'd made a point of telling her what she'd known since the moment she'd woken up the previous evening. "Yes, Spike," she nearly whispered, "I'm your childe. You're my Sire."
He growled deeply, responding to her meek tone, and flew at her, driving his fangs hard into her throat. His teeth slashed repeatedly at her as he gnawed harshly at her flesh, and he growled again-- in satisfaction-- when she whimpered. "Remember that," he ordered, finally releasing her. "You're mine, Willow." He could see the confusion in her eyes, but also the acknowledgment of who, exactly, she belonged to, and he finally smiled a slow, nasty smirk. "Now come downstairs and let Poufy in when he gets here."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Giles was somewhat disturbed to find that he had no qualms whatsoever about keeping Angel's presence in Sunnydale a secret. There had been a time when he would have struggled with that decision, but apparently that time was long passed. He didn't particularly feel like dealing with Buffy's 'oh, poor me' attitude if she found out that her former lover was once again where she could try to get him back.
Oh, the girl *said* she was over the vampire, but the very fact that she'd felt it was necessary for her to drive two hours on the freeway just to tell Angel that they were over and that he should stay out of 'her town' seemed to indicate quite the opposite.
He sighed softly, glad that Anya had chosen to be subtle for once, when she'd told him there was a 'strange man' on the phone. He knew the girl had recognized Angel's voice; that much had been clear from her expression, but obviously, *she* was just as tired of Buffy's reaction to the mere name of the dark-haired vampire, and had chosen not to take the chance on what the Slayer's reaction would be to the fact that he'd called, but not for *her*. "Oh, lovely. I suppose I'll have to give the girl a raise, just to keep her quiet." The former demon had been hinting for more money for a while; it looked like she was finally going to get it.
He couldn't quite figure out why Angel would be looking for Spike, but he decided it wasn't really any of his business, as long as the souled vampire found Willow. He just hoped the girl was all right.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel's brow had become more and more furrowed as he approached the Rosenberg house. He couldn't figure out why he was sensing his childe in a place that should hold Willow. Of course, Spike *had* been working with the Scooby gang, so maybe he and the redheaded witch had become friends.
His expression lightened as he moved from the car and strode up the
front walk. Yes, he decided, that was it. And if Willow was feeling disappointed
in her friends, then he was sure Spike would have been more than willing
to listen to her rant, and probably add a few choice words of his own.
He knew that his childe had been more or less forced into helping Buffy
and company, but he was reasonably sure that the bleached blond hadn't
been enjoying it. Hell, it had probably been a relief for his boy to have
someone to listen to him. A wide smile crossed his lips at the mental picture
of Willow and Spike sitting comfortably, drinking coffee-- tea, his demon
insisted; caffeine made Willow jumpy. All right, then, he told himself,
Willow
and Spike drinking *tea* and bitching about the Slayer. His smile lasted
all the way to the door, and stayed in place as he knocked. It swiftly
became an expression of pure rage, though, when Willow opened the door.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The tense, twitchy feeling kept getting stronger, and even the blood Spike forced her to take from his throat didn't help. It felt like a swarm of fire ants was crawling about under her skin. "Spike..." she moaned unhappily, pacing around the living room, "What's happening to me? Am I... is there something wrong with my demon?"
He'd had no idea that that was what she'd been thinking, and he jumped up from the couch, grabbing her tightly. He truly wished that he'd made other childer, so he'd at least have known how to treat her, but then he realized that that wouldn't have helped, anyway. Willow was like no-one he'd ever known before; it wouldn't matter if he'd made *hundreds* of others before her. She was truly unique. "No, pet," he told her smoothly, "Your demon is fine. Strong, and beautiful, and truly nasty!" He felt her relaxing slightly as she felt his sincerity. "Problem is," he continued, speaking what he suspected, "You gave the Pouf his soul back. I think it tied you to him a little bit. Oh, not enough that you ever noticed before, but..." He shrugged, and met her wide golden eyes. "You're feeling him the way *I* feel him. Of course, I've known him for almost a century and a half, so I'm not reacting quite the way *you* are." His fingers curled into claws, and he gripped her harshly through her fuzzy pink clothes. "Never forget you're *mine*, Red," he told her again.
Just knowing what was wrong with her made it easier to bear, and she nodded slowly. "How could I forget that, Spike?" she asked, honestly curious about why he was so worried. "You turned me. Made me. You're my *Sire*. Why do you think I'd ever..."
Spike just shook his head and released her. She'd understand soon enough. "Better get that, luv," he told her, when the loud knocking came at the door, "Don't want to keep the Pouf waiting." He flung himself unhappily into one of the Queen Anne chairs, and watched as his lovely redhead went to the door, her true face firmly fixed over her human visage. He almost told her to put it away, but he figured they might as well get it over with.
Her knees trembled slightly as she crossed the room, and she paused
for a moment with her hand on the knob. That tingling was even stronger,
and was suddenly centered between her legs, which didn't make any sense
at all. She'd never really thought about Angel that way, after all, but...
apparently, her demon did. She forced herself not to think about it, and
slowly opened the door, gazing curiously at the tall, dark vampire outside.
The sudden heat in his eyes made her gasp, and she stepped back, still
holding onto the door knob. "Angel," she said breathlessly, shocked despite
herself when he growled and threw himself at her, howling his childe's
name.
She was a *vampire*! He would have known it immediately, even if she
hadn't been in game face, and he knew right away exactly who had made
her one. "Spike!" he snarled, diving at the door with every intention
of finding his childe and staking him. He didn't expect the barrier that
repelled him, though, and ended up on his ass on the front porch, staring
up at a slightly amused-- and *very* aroused, judging from the smell of
her-- redheaded demon. "Willow?" he demanded, unbelieving.
"I never invited you back in after your Angelus episode," she reminded him, almost wanting to chuckle at his undignified position.
"Well, you'll invite me in *now*," he told her, standing up. His own true face slipped out, and he growled softly, emphasizing his demand.
Willow forced herself to look thoughtful before shaking her head. "Sorry, Angel," she said seriously, "But you'll have to ask my Sire. If *I* let you in, he'd have to *punish* me..." She cocked her head to the side, a wicked light entering her gleaming gold eyes. "On second thought... come in!"
He was in such a hurry to accept her invitation, that he didn't bother to question what had his demon jumping inside him with glee. He also didn't notice the small, sneaker-covered foot that tripped him. He hit the wooden floor, head first, and rolled onto his back, staring up at the girl dazedly. "Willow...?" he groaned. That was the last thing he said, though, as a large-ish brass sculpture chose that moment to fly against the side of his head.
Spike's brows were drawn together, even as he got up from his chair. "And what was *that*, luv?" he demanded, walking slowly to her side. He stood there and looked down on the unconscious form of his Sire, a small, inquisitive smile on his lips. "Good work with that statue, by the way."
"Thanks, Spike," Willow purred, turning and pressing herself tightly against him. "Now come on," she added after a moment, "We need to get him tied up before he comes to." She moved around Angel's limp body, and crouched, grabbing his wrists tightly. "Well?" she demanded of her motionless Sire, "Don't you want to make him pay for the things he did to you while you were in that wheelchair?"
His tiny smile swiftly became a huge, wicked grin, and he bent down taking the Pouf's ankles. "I like the way you *think*, pet," he murmured smoothly, an unnecessary breath catching in his throat as he caught the full heat of her gaze. "Really..."
Her own lips twitched quickly into a matching smile, and she began tugging the heavy shape of her Grand Sire up the stairs. "You haven't seen *anything* yet, Sire," she said silkily.
End.